


City on the water

by Keiya



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, M/M, post-first season, st petersburg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keiya/pseuds/Keiya
Summary: "You’re really good in raising spirits of the others," Otabek writes to him.  Yurio squints at the phone screen."I just want to compete with the best out there. Not my fault these dumbasses keep trying to retire."





	

**Author's Note:**

> All the kudos in the world to [Seiya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starsniper/pseuds/starsniper) for betaing and support!

Saint Petersburg’s sky is pale and unreadable. The small, sharp snowflakes are falling down and melting on the wet roads instantly. People’s clothes are bright and their faces are closed off..

“Home, sweet home,” Yurio mutters. 

He walks slowly with his earbuds on. It’s a rare case for him to have no destination in mind, no schedule to go through. He feels really free and a little lost. The stone lions are watching him with their blind eyes. 

  
  


_ “Watch me,” Otabek says somewhere in the past. “Watch me, so I won’t dare to give up.”  _ __  
_ Yurio nods.  _ _  
_ __ “I don’t feel like much of a warrior,” he says quietly. “But I’m still planning to fight.”

_ “I will watch you too,” Otabek promises. _

 

Yuuri is cheerful like a piglet when he runs to them. The Tram is ringing over his words, Victor is watching Yuuri with warm eyes, and Yurio wants to kick both of them, mercilessly.

Nothing new here. 

“You should start running with me, Yurio,” Yuuri says. Victor’s stupid dog is licking on his fingers. “It does wonders to the stamina and breathing.”

“I want to know nothing about your stamina, leave it to Victor,” Yurio huffs. Victor stutters beside him and laughs breathlessly. “And I can’t. Yakov says that it’s bad for my spine and joints, since I’m still growing.” 

Yurio looks at the dark water of the canal mashed with the melting ice, but he’s pretty sure that he knows what expressions they both are wearing right now.

Yes, okay? He asked Yakov. It doesn’t mean anything. 

“It’s such a beautiful city,” Yuuri says. “I can’t wait for the summer here, I heard it’s really pretty.”

“Yeah, it is,” Yurio answers. “But I’m pretty sure we will be training that day.” 

Yuuri blinks at him, clearly not getting the joke. Yurio checks Victor, and yeah, he’s smiling. 

“Yurio, stay there!” Victor says suddenly, and Yurio freezes. Macchan knocks into his legs and raises his head, looks at Yurio with his big ever-loving eyes. Victor snaps a couple of photos, Yuuri laughing at his side. 

Yurio frowns, but Victor is walking towards him already. 

“I’m sorry, you just looked good there,” he says and shows Yurio the pictures. 

“Send it to me,” Yurio orders.    
“Yes, sir,” Victor laughs and kisses Yuuri on the cheek, right here, at the street of the city that is pretty unfriendly to gays, in the daylight.

Idiot. 

“I’ll kill you, assholes,” Yurio threatens.

Strangely, they don’t believe him. 

  
  


_ You’re really good in raising spirits of the others,  _ Otabek writes to him.  Yurio squints at the phone screen.    
_ I just want to compete with the best out there. Not my fault these dumbasses keep trying to retire.  _

Otabek sends him a picture of an apple tree that has barely started blooming in response  - delicate white flowers here and there on the dark rough brunches.  It’s an early spring in Almaty.

  
  


Yakov screams at Victor while he tries to do some jump - Yurio is not sure what it was supposed to be, since Victor skews it, landing awkwardly on his knee and crying out loud shortly. He’s sitting on the ice and touching the kneecap and hissing lowly. Yuuri runs to him, his sneakers stepping awkwardly on the ice, his face clearly panicked. Yurio rolls his eyes to himself and follows without a hurry. 

“That’s it,” Victor says dramatically. “I’m dying of old age. All the evidence leads to it.” 

He clasps Yuuri’s hand and looks him in the eyes earnestly. “Will you accompany me through my last days? Will you look after Macchan when I’m gone? Please, Yuuri, have mercy.” 

Yuuri opens his mouth unsurely, but Yurio only scoffs and tugs Victor up by the collar of his costume. 

“Get up, you weakass,” Yurio says. The nurse is already standing beside Yakov, her suitcase open and icepack ready. 

“You know,” Victor says, as they scout him and help him walk to the bleachers, “I was wondering why I wanted to retire, since I love ice with… most of my heart these days, but now this question is answered. Can I spend the rest of my life hugging all of my gold medals and world records and bitterly judging every young skater?”

“No.” everyone around him answers in perfect synchronicity. 

Victor’s pout is indescribable.    

  
  


_ Can I kill Yuuri,  _ Yurio writes. Otabek is online. Thank god he’s online.  _ Maybe he will be less annoying when he’s dead. _

_ I’m pretty sure Victor’s grieving would overcompensate the level of annoyance.  _

Yurio can just imagine Otabek’s calm voice and the slice of irony in his eyes. 

_ Somebody needs to hit this guy in the head with the fact that he sucks at being shy and boring.  _

Yurio looks up at Yuuri again. Yuuri is surrounded by teenage fangirls. They haven’t spotted Yurio yet, and he sure hopes that it stays that way. Yuuri blushes and moves awkwardly, while the girls take selfies and hug him, unapologetically delighted. 

_ You and Victor are working on that misconception of his. Different methods.  _

Yurio snorts. One of the fans lifts up her head to the sound and Yurio hurries to leave. 

 

They are watching Victor’s training session once again. Victor is fast and graceful and the blades of his skates are catching light and reflecting it, but Yurio can’t shake the feeling that something is deeply wrong. Maybe it’s his frozen  face, his too perfect posture. Victor doesn’t throw any stupid bullshit at them, no winks at Yuuri, no improvisation. He pushes himself through the basic choreography, through steps and jumps, and Yurio feels slightly queasy watching it.

Victor takes the final stance, waits a couple of seconds and skates to the exit from ice rink,  his every movement mechanical. Yakov nods at him, and Yurio snaps. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Yuuri gapes at  him, Yakov snorts, and Victor just shrugs. 

“My short program in its draft version, I’m pretty sure. You don’t like it?” 

“You look like a well-controlled zombie!” 

Victor laughs.

Yurio turns around and goes away. 

 

Yuuri catches him outside and walks along with him for some time. It’s a warm but sunless day, and birds are cutting through the flat, lowly hanging sky, happy for the spring.   Yurio heads into the small bakery and orders green tea and pastries for them both, not waiting for Yuuri to ask.

They sit at the table near the window, and Yurio fiddles with the books on the windowsill. Yuuri watches him and Yurio thinks that a couple of months ago he wouldn’t probably be able to separate Katsuki from any other Japanese guy. 

Yuuri looks at him earnestly and finally says quietly, 

“Do you remember the world championship of 2013?”

“Canada,” Yurio mutters. There is a couple outside, walking by, holding hands. The girl tugs the guy, urging him to walk faster in the starting rain, and he resists. They both look like they’re laughing. 

“Canada, London,” Yuuri nods. The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Why there is a London in Canada, anyway? Is having one in England not enough?”

He still pronounces the L-sound unsurely, muffles it a bit.

“There is a St. Petersburg in the USA,” Yurio says. 

“Woah, really?” Yuuri smiles, sips his tea and immediately frowns. “Ew.”

“What about Canada?” 

“Victor fell down on the warm-up,” Yuuri says. “He got up quickly, and he skated fine, but he damaged some spine muscles there.” 

“It’s bound to happen,” Yurio says, and the words are tight and strangled in his mouth. 

“Yes, it is,” Yuuri nods. “Sochi, his ankle. Moscow, the forearm, when he was training. I can continue, Yurio.”

The rain outside is getting stronger, drops are skating down the window, leaving the wet trails on the glass. 

“He takes his chondroprotectors like his life depends on it, even though their effectiveness is not proved. He follows his diet and regime. He doesn’t read in bed.” 

“So what, you want to say he should have retired, or what now?” Yurio kicks at the legs of the table, barely holding himself from throwing the book at Yuuri’s head. 

Yuuri sighs. 

“I’m trying to say that presentation is not the prerogative right now. And that Victor’s not likely to ever perform the way he did before.” 

Yurio clenches his teeth. 

“Take that back.”

“He’s not the same, Yurio.” 

Yurio bangs the table with his his fist and jumps up, but Yuuri catches his hand. 

“I didn’t say it will be worse. Just different.” 

Yurio wrests his hand out of Yuuri’s hold and leaves.Yuuri lets him.

The droplets are hitting his hood, and Yurio hides in the gateway, watches the rain and cars driving through it.

The old Victor was the best. If he has changed forever…

There are old rusted pipes on the wall of the gateway. Yurio looks closer, and there is a old yellow toy car in the curve of the pipe. Yurio picks it up. It’s a cheap plastic thing, beaten up with time and life. Yurio clutches it in his hand. 

He needs a good luck token too. 

_ How is the bear doing _ , he texts to Otabek.

_ Sends you his regards and invitation to play chess. I would not recommend it. _

_ Why? _

_ No pride in winning, all the shame in losing.  _

_ Not my type of fight,  _ Yurio types.

_ I figured. _

 

Yurio falls down next day in the training, and it’s nothing serious, just a bruise, but it sets him thinking. 

If he’s as lucky as Victor is, he has fifteen years of the competitive skating. That’s a lot, and later he can start skating as a performer, putting up a show, consciously doing less than he can.

The worst case scenario makes his head spin.

He knew all of that coming in, but only now, when he watches Victor from arm’s length, does it feels so sickeningly real.

It’s like stepping on the ice after a long time, not knowing if your body will obey or betray you. It’s like looking down from the great height.

 

_ The future is fucking scary,  _ Yurio writes. 

_ As hell,  _ Otabek answers.

 

The city drowns in the deep blue of the spring night, and the water splashes at the concrete shores of the conduit in a constant swishing murmur. 

Victor and Yuuri are walking in front of Yurio and talking quietly, their hand intertwined. It’s late, and there is no one on the streets, just cars driving by, but Yurio still watches around, still waits for the aggressive comment that will start a fight. 

He’s not even sure why he’s here. It’s a fucking date, you don’t invite a third person on the date for two, get a grip, Victor. 

But Yuuri and Victor both asked him, and Yuuri said he wanted him and Victor both to show him this city with all of its wide avenues, narrow bystreets, countless bridges and quays full of the moist air.

 

Yurio hears bits of their talk here and there, the softest insults and ridiculous flirtations, the questions like “will you wear white for me?” and helpless laughter. Yurio thinks that they will burn out everything they have in between them, going at this speed, with this intensity, baring everything and giving themselves away completely, and then both of them will end up empty inside and out. 

His mouth dries out on the thought. 

His fingers itch to take out his phone, to text Otabek about it, to be reassured, or agreed with, or distracted. 

But Yuuri and Victor turn around and wave at him, soft smiles on their faces, leaning into each other. They couldn’t be more different, in looks and worldviews, but still they share space and time so easily, and Yurio’s anxiety’s quietly soothed with that.

 

_ Yuuri is like that pig in the movie that decided he wants to herd the sheep,  _ Yurio writes.  _ It’s not what you’re for! You’re a future katsudon! _

_ Did you know that this movie and the Mad Max franchise have the same director?  _ Otabek replies, and, what? 

_ WHAT. _

_ Look it up. Also, the pig wins in the end, doesn’t he? _

_ Not if I have anything to do with that _ , Yurio snorts and opens a Google tab.

 

Victor does a complete run-through of his short program, the first one since the zombie fiasco. He practiced and polished his steps and jumps separately, and coached Yuuri and Yurio both alongside with Yakov, and answered “okay” every time he was asked about his own training.

Now he takes a starting stance and the music starts flowing over the ice rink.Yurio bites his lips and throws a glance at Yuuri, who clenches his hands and watches Victor with the almost unbearable mix of faith and desperation.

And it’s not perfect. The toe loop is a triple, not quadruple as planned, and the spin is slower than it should be, and Yurio is pretty sure Yakov can see a couple of other mishaps, but.

But the light breaks into small rainbows on the metal of Victor’s blades, and his movements are free and forceful, sharp somehow, and Yurio recognizes Yuuri in the way Victor’s steps captivate him. 

It’s like the ice is breathing and Victor goes with its breath. It’s like he’s flying a bit - not as a magical non-existent creature, but as a bird that makes its own freedom and flight through hard labor. 

Yeah, Yurio thinks. Fuck.

Victor skates to Yuuri and they hug and laugh, and Victor looks at Yurio over Yuuri’s shoulder. 

Yurio smirks at him. 

Now, he thinks. Now we compete.

  
  


In two weeks, Yurio’s phone rings. 

“Hey,” Otabek says. “I have some news.”

“Bad first,” Yurio orders.

“There is no bad. I’m just changing my training base.”

“Yeah? To what?”

“Guess.” Otabek’s voice is that shade of serious that hides the smugness.

Yurio laughs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> George Miller is legit, guys, and it's the best thing about the Hollywood!


End file.
